


I would for you

by Trash



Series: Kinktober 2017 [27]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: AU, Angst, Day 27: stripping/strip tease, Kinktober 2017, M/M, stripper Dan sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 06:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12525332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: The club is behind Angel station, accessed through a fire exit in a back lane. Which should have told Kyle everything he needed to know about the place.





	I would for you

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2017, day 27: stripping/strip tease  
> Title from NIN, cheers Trent.

The club is behind Angel station, accessed through a fire exit in a back lane. Which should have told Kyle everything he needed to know about the place. But by this point he’s already pretty wrecked. It’s his birthday, his friends kept reminding him. Like he could forget. Turning 29 and staring down the barrel of a shit office job for the rest of his life.

And really, he would have been happy with nothing but Netflix and a bottle of wine and his right hand but here he is, following his friends into a dark club that smells vaguely like sweat and old cigarette smoke.

“Where the fuck are we?”

Will looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “You’ll see.”

But Kyle really doesn’t get it. It seems like any other shitty club, where your feet stick to the floor and there isn’t a drink under a fiver. And he’s about to have a bit of a whinge when a lady in a tight fitting dress, clipboard jammed under her arm, stops them. “Simmons?” She asks.

“Uh.”

Will shoves him forward. “That’s us,” he says.

“Great, come with me sir,” she says, turning away.

Kyle goes to follow her but stops when the others don’t join him.

“It’s all for you, mate. Happy birthday!”

Oh what the fuck?

The lady leads him through a door beside the bar and down a dimly lit corridor. He can barely hear the music from the club down here, and it smells sweeter. Like incense, or one of those naff scented candles from Collectibles. She stops at a door and holds it open, stepping to one side.

“If you could just wait in here, sir,” she says, guided Kyle inside. The door closes behind him before he can even protest.

The walls of the room are nothing but full length mirrors, with one on the ceiling too. The light is dim, a yellowing spotlight pointed at the chair in the middle of the room. There’s unidentifiable music playing, slow and sensual. He pulls his phone out to text Will, almost too angry to type.

‘U r such a bellend honestly i told u no strip clubs’.

He hits send and makes for the door because fuck this, seriously. Before he can even cross the room the door has opened, and a man steps in. He can’t be much older than Kyle, wearing skin tight jeans and a fashionably torn black vest, his hair a wild mess of black standing up in every direction.

“Hello,” the man says, his voice raspy.

“Uh. Hi,” Kyle says.

“Sit down.” The man crosses the room, and when he gets under the light it’s clear he has tried to hide a black eye with concealer. His bottom lip is split, too.

“No,” Kyle says. “I’m alright, thanks. Sorry, my mates set me up. Don’t really...do this kind of thing. No offence.”

The man smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hmm. What’s your name?”

“Kyle.”

“Okay, Kyle. Let me put it to you this way - you’ve paid for this. Or someone has. Thirty minutes of...whatever. You can sit and twiddled your thumbs for all I care, but I can’t leave this room until thirty minutes is up or my life won’t be worth living. That make sense?”

Jesus Christ. “Oh,” Kyle says, “yeah. Okay?”

“Great.”

Kyle sits down, perching on the edge of the seat awkwardly. “What’s your name?”

“Dan,” the guy says, crossing his arms in front of himself to grab the bottom of his vest. He pulls it off slowly, in time with the music. And he’s gorgeous, and he’s Kyle’s type, and this would probably be hot under any other circumstances, and if Dan’s ribs weren’t peppered with bruises fading from angry purple to yellow. There’s what looks like a bite mark on his hip bone.

“Who did that to you?” Kyle asks.

Dan doesn’t even look down, he just straddles Kyle’s lap. “Like I said, I can’t leave here until thirty minutes is up.”

And Kyle knows everything he needs to know, then. He can picture it all so easily, bloodied lips and broken ribs at the hand of whoever runs the club. And he thought _his_ life was shit. 

“Christ, Dan,” he says, pushing Dan’s hands away from where they’ve made their way under 

Kyle’s shirt. “Stop. Wait. No. Come on, can’t you...leave? We could just make a run for it.”

Dan looks at him blankly. “That’s a great idea, Kyle. Hey, why don’t you distract the bouncers and I’ll leg it. I’ll move in with you, and you can change your name because they’ll be looking for you. So you’d have to quit your job and we’d have to move. And the police won’t care because a lot of them are patrons of the club. Yeah, you can save me and we can live happily ever after. That sounds fucking great. Or, you could just sit there for thirty minutes.”

He gets up and puts his shirt back on, sitting in the corner of the room with his knees drawn up this his chest. And before Kyle can say anything he has his phone in his hand.

Kyle sits there, bemused. “What are you reading?” He asks, for no reason.

Dan looks up, frowns. “Twitter,” he says, before going back to looking at his phone. “Why are you here if you don’t want a lap dance?”

Kyle wishes he knew. “My friends...made me come here.”

“Poor you.”

“Hey, don’t be a dick. You’re still getting paid, right?”

Dan scoffs. “Yeah, but a tiny percentage of what you paid to be here.” He looks up from his phone and his face softens a little. “Just, do me a favour and tell them you had a great time, okay?”

Kyle nods. “O-okay,” he says. 

And the pair of them sit there in silence, until thirty minutes is up.


End file.
